


Predator

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Biting, Chasing, Choking, F/M, Fear, like being chased and fucked, prey play, rough, seriously this is prey play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: You've signed the contract to be Papa's Prime Mover, but you're not sure what all that entails. About a month later, Papa himself invites you to a picnic under the setting sun. When the full moon rises, you find out exactly what it means to be hunted.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	Predator

“Sister, you know what we’re asking of you, right?” Sister Imperator tipped her head to the side, glancing from Papa Nihil to you. The contract was laid out in front of you, the white script flowing beautifully against the black paper. It seemed to have an air of danger to it, even sitting there quietly. The very air around it felt electric and charged with energy.  
“Yes, Sister. I know exactly what it entails.” Your hands are clasped in your lap to conceal the tremors that had been coursing them for the last fifteen minutes of the conversation.

“I just...well, we just worry that this is a large undertaking for someone. It requires thought, dear.” Sister Imperator surreptitiously nudges Papa Nihil with her elbow, clearing her throat. Papa sits up a little bit straight before addressing you.

“Sister, what year are you?” Nihil takes a short breath from his oxygen mask and turns his gaze to yours, finally. His white eyes pierce through you, so much like your lover’s, but you maintain eye contact and answer him firmly.

“I’m a fifth year, Papa. A Senior Sister.” Nihil nods sagely at your response, waving his hand towards you and leaning into Sister Imperator.

“She knows, Sister. She has taken the class on my sons and their Ghouls. She knows what this contract means.” He suddenly leans forward and looks at you sternly. “My youngest… you know he is sensitive. If you change your mind he may not recover.” He takes another breath from the oxygen mask. “Some of the others have made mention of how scary that night can be… others have spoken of how exhilarating it is. Pity I don’t remember my own night.”

“Papa! Do not scare the poor girl.” Sister Imperator claps Nihil on the hand lightly in a chastising manner. “Old fool.” She smiles at you warmly and you feel some of the nerves flutter away. “Dear, this is a large undertaking but it is one of importance. Only do this if you feel as though you can handle it. I mean that both emotionally and physically.” You nod slowly, reaching forward for the contract once more. Your hand is still.

“I’m sure. He’s asked me, and I’ve accepted. I’ll be his Prime Mover. I know the ramifications of what I’m signing, and I’m ready for it. This is something I’ve dreamt of since I joined the Clergy. A simple night in the woods is no barrier to me.” You sign your name with a flourish at the bottom of the contract and gasp in surprise as it bursts into flame, falling to ash in your fingers.

“Then it’s done.” Nihil looks at you once more, and you get the sense that he’s looking through you rather than at you. “At the next moon, we’ll begin the hunt.” You stand swiftly, bowing to Papa and Sister Imperator before taking your leave. As soon as the door shuts behind you you start trembling again, your nerves finally released. 

The Hunt was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced during your time in the Clergy. Other Siblings have undertaken it as a part of their contracts with various Papa’s and Ghouls, but they never spoke about it afterwards or explained what happened in those woods. In addition, the woods themselves were off limits to everyone save for the Papas, Ghouls and higher Clergy staff.

What did you just get yourself into? You know that being a Papa’s Prime Mover can be an incredible elevation of status, but beyond that you weren’t sure of the actual process that went into it. Regardless, the contract was signed- the deal was done. You would soon know.

A month later and the contract has almost been completely forgotten by you. Papa Emeritus the Third has been nothing but cordial to you, and hasn’t addressed the Prime Mover topic even once. If you didn’t know better you would have assumed it had never happened. This evening he had showed up at your dorm hall with a small basket, a bottle of red wine and a blanket. He’d offered his arm and you’d taken it graciously, allowing him to lead you into the courtyard, on the border of the woods. It’s here that you now sit together, basket open to reveal a neatly packed dinner and blanket spread on the sun-warmed grass.

“Tah-dah!” Papa pulls a small platter out of the basket with a flourish, holding it out to you and allowing you to choose a sandwich off of it. “Cardinal Copia made them for you, cara. Strange lad. But they seem good enough, yes?” You nod and pick up a cucumber and cheese sandwich, taking a bite swiftly and wiggling happily to yourself on the blanket. 

“Thank you for the picnic, Papa. Very romantic.” You swallow your bite of sandwich and lean forward to take the glass of wine that he’s poured out for you. The wine smells fruity and the taste explodes on your tongue to pair nicely with the sandwich. “Oh! Delicious!”

“Si, one of my best picks. Good for the season, yes?” You nod and continue your small dinner, watching Papa picking through his own meal of rare steak, only just lightly seared on either side. His eyes flicker up to yours and he smiles slightly, popping another bite of the bloody meat into his mouth. “Apologies, sorella. It seems I’m hungry recently.” You nod, understanding what he means.

“It’s okay Papa. You need your meat.” He flashes a broad smile at your knowing words and you shiver only slightly at the sight of the blood between his teeth. 

An hour later and the moon has risen as the sun slowly sets beyond the horizon. Papa looks up into the sky, resting back on his forearms with his legs outstretched. His hand comes to rest on your head, laying neatly on his lap. He motions for you to sit up and refills both of your wine goblets, emptying the bottle. As he tilts his head back to sip the wine, he cracks the knuckles of his empty hand against his thigh and you startle at the noise, half way through a sip of your own wine. He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck as well. Something about the sounds feel ominous in your gut.

“Sorella…” Papa takes a deep breath over the wine glass, closing his eyes as he inhales. You pause in bringing the goblet back to your mouth for another sip and look at him, only just now aware of how oddly undone he seems. You look up quickly as the clouds move from in front of the moon, revealing its stark white illumination. Your pulse quickens in your veins.

“Papa?” Your voice is shaking. Papa opens his eyes quickly and fixes you with his gaze. His right eye has completely blacked out while his white left eye seems to be glowing- piercing through you with an unsettling stare. In a quick motion he drains the rest of his wine and slams the goblet back onto the blanket, swallowing hard.

“Run.” 

You drop your own goblet, splashing the red wine onto the blanket in a violent crescent arc, eerily reminiscent of blood. Quickly you dash off into the woods, the thick tangle of leaves and branches grabbing at your habit and skin instantly. Within feet of entering the woods your head cover is already torn off and you can feel a tear in your stockings. Something in the back of your head tells you to just keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop, breathe and just keep running, what if he catches you and then-

Your thoughts are stopped abruptly as you trip and stumble across a log. You clap a hand over your mouth to stay quiet as your ankle gives a twinge of pain. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, but you certainly came close. You shake yourself off and keep going, the woods yawning open before you- dense, black, and untamed. There’s a reason that the woods are off limits to most Siblings, and you feel that now you understand why. 

It’s a hunting ground.

You skid to a stop by a large tree, putting your back to it and taking in heaving gasps of air, your lungs aching with the exertion. Already your legs were shaking from running and your arms were stinging from small cuts scattered across them, likely from the sharp branches of the trees. These woods were meant to keep people out and Ghouls in- not to be run through in a panic as you were chased. Or were they? Something tells you that is precisely their main function.

As you lift your foot to start running once more you hear a snap sounding from behind you and you freeze, the blood in your veins rushing cold as the air punches itself out of your chest. Was he behind you? Did he already know where you would run to? Were you that predictable? Did every Sibling who was chosen as a Prime Mover go through this? More importantly, did all of them survive?

“Vieni fuori, vieni fuori…” You can hear him calling for you so close by you’re surprised he couldn’t see you. Is he...sniffing? “Cara, I can smell your blood you know. Sweet, and hot. It runs through your veins as it will flow over my fingers.” He gives a dark chuckle and that’s the final straw- you burst from your hiding space and sprint farther into the woods, yelping slightly as your habit catches hard on a branch and rips, a large gash opening in the fabric by your leg. Miraculously the skin underneath seems to be unharmed.

There’s no time for you to stop as you hear him start giving chase behind you, still taunting you in Italian and English. Breath coming quicker in heaving gasps you suddenly burst into a clearing and skid to a stop in your confusion. Was this the center of the woods? Were you meant to get out? To escape? Neither the contract nor Nihil were quite clear in the intention of The Hunt. Perhaps you were supposed to let him catch you. Unbidden by you, your heart gives a twinge of interest at what might happen if he does.

Papa laughs again from behind you and you make your decision quickly, dashing forward and back into the woods. It seems impossible but this area of the woods is even thicker and more foreboding than the part you had just left. Shaking this worry aside you press on, almost crying in relief and joy when you find a large stone building in front of you. You slam yourself against the heavy wooden door, cracked and warped with age and give a sob of frustration when it doesn’t budge.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter to yourself, wrenching on the door as hard as you can. With an almighty groan the door finally swings open and you enter, clanging it shut behind yourself and bending over at the waist, hands on your knees. As you catch your breath you stand up fully, hand held to a stitch in your side. You take a moment to gather yourself and give yourself a once over.

Your habit is torn in a massive gash across your thighs, leaving the thin black material in tatters. One sleeve of the habit has been completely torn off and is hanging by a thread. You grab it and yank it off, throwing it into the room. Your hands have some scratches on them, but nothing so serious as to require medical attention. Your stockings, as you already knew, were also in tatters from the thick knee high brush and tangle. Surprisingly there seems to be little to no damage to your Clergy issue shoes, a fact that you’re thankful for.

You step into the large room and take in your surroundings. The room was longer than it was wide, with large wooden pews in a line down either side. Between the rows of pews is a dingy and torn red rug, with what appeared to once be opulent golden edges. The ceiling is covered in thick cobwebs and the occasional remnant of a chandelier. At the front of the room is a large marble dais, with a pure onyx statue of the Baphomet. You find yourself drawn to his ruby jeweled eyes and approach slowly.

As soon as your last footsteps' echo ends you can hear the beginnings of a tapping on the door. Your heart flies to your throat as your pulse quickens. There’s no way he’d already found you, was there? If the door was difficult for you to open, you doubted it would be for a Papa in heat, especially under a full moon. You can hear him tapping on the door in a rhythmic fashion, almost taunting to your ears.

“Cara miaaaaa, let me in!” Papa calls to you in a sing-song voice, sending chills racing up your spine. This was the same Papa you knew, but completely taken by the blood inside of him. He’d warned you of his heat before but this was something completely different. You hold your hand to your mouth to attempt to quiet your breathing. “Little pig, little pig, let me in. This is how the rhyme goes, si?”

You back yourself against the marble dais, hands scrabbling for purchase to hold yourself up as you hear him toying with the door. Slowly, ever so slowly, you see the door bow inward before it slams open with a bang. Papa enters just as slowly, his white eye slightly glowing in the dim light of the ruined chapel. He locks his sight on to you quickly and you shrink back farther against the dais, breath coming quickly. Papa walks forward towards you with his arms open wide, a broad grin on his painted face.

“Cara! I found you!” He shakes his finger at you in a scolding manner. “You tried to run and you tried to hide, but I found you!” He strides towards you swiftly and taps his nose. “I can smell you from a mile away, you know. The contract.” 

Finally, he’s standing in front of you and places both of his hands on your shoulders softly. His eyes search in yours for a moment before he moves a hand to your face, cupping you softly and wiping away a stray path of blood from your lip. He brings his thumb to his lips and licks your blood off, tongue flicking in a lewd and almost animalistic manner. Your breathing is still quick and shallow, fear holding your heart in its hand.

“So beautiful, you know. I have waited for this night.” He leans down and kisses you, surprisingly softly, before standing back to his full height and looking down his nose at you. “You run from your Papa, yes? I care not if it was by instruction. You ran. Now, you are punished.” Without giving you a chance to even take a breath he pushes you against the dais hard, pinning your hips to the marble with his own as he unbuttons your habit down the back. You shift backwards hard, shock guiding your movements more than rational thought. A loud crash sounds from behind you as the Baphomet statue crashes to the ground, shattering to pieces.

“Papa!”

“It matters not. All that matters to me is you, sorella.” His hips grind up into yours and you can feel his cock, already hardening to his full length inside of his suit trousers. “All that matters to me is that I am filling you, full with my cock and full with my seed, yes?” You gasp in a mixture of shock and arousal, trying to turn your head to get a view of the statue behind you. Papa puts his arms under your armpits, lifting you quickly onto the now-empty dais, spreading your thighs harshly and situating himself between them.

“Papa,” you manage to gasp out. “Is this what being a Prime Mover is? I know I’m meant to have your child but… The Hunt?” Papa is slowly kissing his way up your neck, lavishing you with kisses and bites. He stops once your question is complete and pulls back, making pointed eye contact with you.

“Si, sorella. A Prime Mover must be hunted, captured and bred. An old tradition, yes? Barbaric but-”

“I loved it.” A flush rises up your face as you admit this, both to yourself and to Papa. You can’t be certain, but you think that there’s a small flush forming under his paint as well. Slowly he lowers his lips back to your neck, nipping slightly harder this time.

“Did you, cara? You liked the feeling of running through our woods? The feeling of having me behind you, chasing you, smelling your scent?” To articulate his point, Papa breathes in deeply under your ear. “That’s how I found you, you know. The smell of sex.” He thrusts his hips against yours and moans wantonly, licking a line up the column of your neck before sucking a mark into you. 

“Unholy Lord below, yes, Papa.” You finally let loose your grip on the dais and wrap your arms around him, digging your nails into his back. It’s only now that you realize that his suit is miraculously untorn by the run through the woods. You glide your hands over his shoulders to the front of his suit coat, unbuttoning the shirt slowly. “Are you going to fuck me, Papa? Are you going to take me on the broken platform of Our Father?”

“Sister, I’m going to do more than that.” Papa removes his gloves slowly, biting the tip of his finger and pulling them off, discarding them onto the stone floor. You can see that both his nails and his teeth are slightly elongated and sharper, most likely due to his heat. He puts a finger under your chin and tilts your head to force eye contact with you as the other hand slips to your stockings, sliding into one of the rips and slicing them off of you cleanly. “I am going to own you- body, soul, and mind.” 

Despite the previously threatening aura he was giving off, the promise of sex has you shivering and wanting. You reach down to help him remove what’s left of your stockings and panties, not bothering to take off a shoe to fully remove them. Papa leans you back onto the marble dais and the cold touch sends a spark through your body. The position itself is promising enough to make you moan as Papa situates himself firmly between your legs, his hands rubbing up and down your bare thighs.

“This body, sorella. So fit to be mine. So fit to be used.” He leans over you, his hands coming roughly to land beside your head, boxing you in against the plane of his chest and the dais against your back. Papa thrusts slightly against you and you can feel his cock, warm through his pants, against your thigh. “Are you ready?” You can tell that he’s giving you a way out, should you have changed your mind. Without blinking you look into his white eye and nod, licking your lips slightly.

“Yes, Papa. Take me.” You move your hips up slightly and watch as his eyes roll back when you come into contact with him. He’s only just barely restraining himself- sensing this, you double down on your words, grinding yourself up once more, firmer. “Take me, Papa. I am yours. I signed the contract. I’m your Prime Mover. Make it official.” Your words work and Papa leans down, licking up the column of your throat again before biting your ear as one of his hands travels down to free himself. The jingle of his belt and the sound of his zipper do nothing but further ignite the fire inside of you. 

“You want this, si? Your beautiful body to be owned and used by your Papa? Tell me, pet, have you ever felt thoroughly taken before?” His teeth clamp softly around your jugular and you freeze, your mind focusing on the small point of contact before you take in a shuddering breath to answer him.

“No, Papa. Not like this.” You pause for a moment and lift your head slightly, pressing your neck farther into his teeth. He groans deeply, the sound almost vibrating along your throat. “But I want to be.” 

The hand that had previously been on himself comes to you now, and you can feel the slickness of his precum on his palm as it skates up your trembling thigh to your waiting heat. His finger wastes no time in sliding in, curving upwards quickly to rub the spot inside of you. 

“Papa, take me. Just take me. I’m ready. I’ve been ready since I started running.” You’re only vaguely aware of the words tumbling from your mouth but something inside of you can’t stop begging for him. “The fear, the adrenaline… I’m ready, please. Seal the contract, make me yours.” He groans again, deep in his throat, that slowly changes into a growl as he removes his finger and lines himself up with your entrance.

“Say it again, cara. Ho bisogno che tu lo implori, per favore.” When you don’t speak, he grunts in frustration and pulls off of your throat to look at you. “Beg me, per favore. Show me how broken, yes?” 

“I’m ready for you to fill me. I have been. Please, just fill me already and make me take all of you.” You thrust your hips against his to further get the message across and he slumps down over you, a lock of his raven hair falling into his eyes. You bring a hand forward to sweep it back and make him look into your eyes. “Papa, fuck me.” 

Papa finally seems to lose the tenuous control he had managed to keep on himself as he bites your neck once more, harder this time. You can feel his teeth slip into your skin slightly and the small pinpricks of pain only fuel your desire to be filled. It’s in the same motion that he bites you hard and slides his cock fully into you, already starting to move at a frenetic pace as his tongue lathes out to lick away your blood, now freely flowing from your throat.

You barely have the awareness to wrap your legs around his waist and hold on to him as he pounds away at you, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing in the chapel. A moan manages to leave your lips as he grinds up into you, his pelvis rubbing at your clit in the best way. Shocks of pleasure course through your system from the dual onslaught, only ratcheting up to an eleven as his clawed fingers slice through the remainder of your habit, baring your breasts to him. 

His lips move from your throat to your breast, latching on to your nipple and biting it softly- and surprisingly gently- between his teeth before lathing over it with his tongue. Papa sucks hard on your before thrusting into you and stilling his movements, only rocking his hips upward into you. He pulls off of your breast with an audible pop before moving to your mouth, kissing you roughly and nipping slightly at your lower lip. Lucifer below, you’d be covered in marks come morning.

“Sister, I need more.” Papa leans his forehead against you, closing his eyes and breathing hard against your lips. He pushes his hips into you once more and whines, even though he’s already seated to the hilt inside of you. “I need more. This heat it’s… I need more.” 

“What do you need, Papa? Tell me.” You card your fingers through his hair and move your own hips upward as he moans again. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he shifts his arms under your legs, lifting you off of the dais and sliding himself out of you in the same motion.

“I need you to be rough with me, Sister. Mi amore...return the favor.” Papa presses his lips to yours hungrily, one hand slipping between your bodies to tease at your clit in swift circles. You gasp into his mouth, feeling your slickness coating your thighs as you lean against him heavily, your legs trembling. “Come, Sister. Get on top of me, si?”

Papa goes to the dais and hops up quickly, laying back in the same position you had just occupied. You waste no time in crawling on top of him, moving your hands reverently across his chest and tweaking his nipple quickly as you go. He grunts and then laughs breathlessly, guiding your hips over his own and grinding you down onto his cock. Finally you grip his cock and guide it inside of yourself, sinking down slowly onto him and exaggerating your own moans for his pleasure. 

“Papa, you’re so thick inside of me. It feels so good.” As you start moving your hips his hands shoot up to grip your biceps, pulling you down harshly over him and biting at your lips. From this position you can only bounce in short movements along his cock, but it seems to be more than enough for him as he groans against your mouth. 

You kiss and nip your way to his neck as he straightens the column of his throat for you, soft “si”’s dropping from his lips as you finally grasp your teeth around his throat. You bite softly, unsure of how much pressure he wants. Almost instantly his hand comes to the back of your head, pushing you intently into him. His other hand slides down your back and grips your hip hard, thrusting himself in time with your own movements, creating a feedback loop of pleasure that has you groaning against his throat. 

Biting harder on him elicits a string of curses from Papa, something that spurs you on even farther. You drag one hand up to his throat and squeeze, looking into his eyes to gauge his reaction. He nods at you and you squeeze harder, sitting up fully and grinding yourself down into his cock in a figure-eight motion. 

“Harder, sorella. Ride me. You want to be full, si? To be mine? Work for it.” The hand that was on the back of your head now comes to your wrist as he squeezes you in an imitation of the pressure that he wants. You follow his instruction, bouncing yourself on him as best as you can while still maintaining the pressure on his throat. 

“Fill me Papa. You know you want to.” At your words he closes his eyes, bringing the hand on your hip to slap you on the ass, hard, as he thrusts up once more and stills. You can feel his cock kicking and pulsing inside of you as he cums, mouth dropping open in a loud and shuddering groan. Once he finishes and his eyes open once more you lean down onto him, kissing his lips softly. He runs a hand through your hair and you lean into his touch, taking a deep breath- the calmest you’ve had in a while.

“Papa…” You lick your lips slightly in anticipation of your question. He meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow at you. “How often does this happen?” Papa laughs sharply, wrapping one arm around you and ruffling your hair with the other.

“About twice a year, cara. You can handle that, yes?” You nod enthusiastically and he laughs again, patting your rump and indicating for you to get up. As you do, you wince at the sticky feeling on your thighs of your combined slickness. “Not to worry, hold please.” Papa holds up one finger and hops daintily off of the dais, tucking himself back into his pants and walking behind it.

He mutters to himself about calling a Ghoul to cart back the mess as he kicks aside the broken pieces of the Baphomet before he reappears with a small backpack. Unzipping it, he reveals the contents to be a fresh habit, stockings, a towel, and a bottle of water. Beneath the clothing is a small medical kit. You look at him sharply and gesture at the chapel behind you.

“You planned for this building? How obvious am I?” 

“Not at all, sorella. The Clergy they ah… they stash these throughout the woods. My brothers tend to be a lot rougher than I, and they want to make sure the Siblings are cared for.” He takes the medical kit out of the bag before handing the clothes to you, turning politely as you change. Papa turns the kit over in his hands and studies the contents intently. “Do you think you will need tending, Sister?” 

“No, Papa. I’m more than alright. Just some scratches that will heal in time.” Freshly clothed you approach him and wrap your hands around his middle, leaning your face against his shoulder. “I don’t know if this is appropriate to say, Papa, but I had fun. I know it’s a big deal to ask a sibling to be your Prime Mover.” Papa tutts, cutting you off and turning in your arms. He drops a quick kiss to the crown of your head.

“It is no big deal when you know the person is meant to be one. The heart, it knows.” Papa clears his throat, slightly uncomfortable at the show of emotion. The two of you rarely discussed your love for one another, preferring to show it in small intimate motions toward the other in the form of a letter, or a warm bath. 

“Do we return to the Abbey?” you ask softly, not quite willing to leave his comfortable embrace yet.

“Si, in time. A Ghoul will be dispatched to find us and they will guide us back. These woods are ever changing, yes? Il labirinto.” You poke him in the ribs, mumbling something about English under your breath. “Maze,” he chuckles. 

“I have to say I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.” You laugh lightly- a high, tinkling laugh that seems at odds with your surroundings. “This day has been chaotic, to say the least.” Papa pulls back from you slightly and you tilt your head up to make eye contact with him again. You notice that his eyes seem normal once more, the heat having passed.

“You will be moving into my chambers. No one has told you this thing?” You shake your head, slightly confused. He sighs exaggeratedly and plasters a hand across his forehead in mock worry. “Now you have reason to deny me! ‘But Papa,’ you’ll say, ‘I want my own bed!’ you’ll say.” He moves the hand to your chin, tilting your lips towards his and pressing a soft kiss to you. “My bed is your bed now, cara. You are mine.” 

You smile broadly.

His.


End file.
